


Awkward

by BenLMoore



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenLMoore/pseuds/BenLMoore
Summary: Shortly after the first time they meet, Timmy sees Armie on the hotel balcony watching the sun set. It would have been the perfect moment to leave the guy alone.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Awkward

**Author's Note:**

> Literally just slapped this together. Haven’t written anything in months, but the fancy struck me and I felt like playing with these two. 
> 
> I haven’t watched their interviews, know nothing of their actual meeting or how they interact as human beings. It’s just a little fancy to pass a few minutes. And possibly alert my fic Muse that I'm willing to write again.

It’s not like you could mistake him for someone else. A 6 and a half foot blond could only be Armand (Armie) Hammer. Standing at the edge of the balcony watching the sunset, having a private moment, minding his own business.   
Virtually begging to be left alone.

I turned around and collided with an old lady wearing a wicked string of purple pearls. Thankfully, I had the quick reflexes to keep us both on our feet by catching her fleshy arms. After we’d both profusely apologized - she in Italian, me in English, then, both of us in amused French - she scurried on her way. I always have been clumsy.

I glanced over my shoulder. It didn't seem Armie had noticed my little mishap. He was still towering like the cover on one of my mother’s romance novels.

I didn’t get where I am by being shy. I am the confident kid. The old soul, beyond my years in poise and talent. That's the persona. I keep that up and everything falls into my lap. I sucked in a lungful of Mediterranean air and let it out in a rush. 

The guy was taller, older - (okay, massive and I had no idea how old), but we were equals. Co-stars. Only a stupid little kid wouldn’t go over and just say hello.

What I did instead was stroll over to the guy, stand (my) shoulder to (his) elbow, cross my arms and say nothing. Mostly, I focused on making my breathing sound normal. (professional actor and all)

The thing is, he was wearing this cologne - the same one as at the screen test. I'll never forget the first time I smelled him. All I could think was, ‘God! How do women not cast themselves at the feet of a guy who smells like this?’

And then, I realized, they probably do. Armie Hammer probably glides along on a carpet of women who are happy to lay there just to be close to him. 

But I was already close to him (without prostrating myself). Also, I wasn’t a woman. I wasn’t a fan. And I wasn’t attracted to him.   
It was a good cologne. 

Which explained the breathing. And the coal in my throat. It did not, however, explain why I would walk over and not say anything. 

So, I started the conversation with, “You are really, really large.”

Why did I say that? I don’t know. Retarded? Insane?  
I wiped my mouth with my hand, five words too late. 

To make it worse, Armie didn’t even look at me, or grunt or anything. He just nodded and stared at the water or the sun. While I fantasized about removing my tongue with my travel razor.

Then, he did speak: “I’m just going to say it. You’re beautiful.”

“… OK.”

It was a bit as if time had stopped. My heart had stopped. The stilted breathing wasn’t a problem because I wasn’t fucking breathing anymore.   
Because how was I supposed respond to that other than possum-like stillness?

“That was awkward, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I choked out. “A little awkward.”

Armie reverted to silence, (not less awkward). At that point, fleeing to my room wasn’t an option anymore, because the next time we saw each other (the following day on set) would be unbearable. One of us was going to have to fix this. 

Instead, we both stood there, looking out at the breathtaking, deep peach-colored sea.

“You know, I know I’m big,” Armie said, still without looking at me.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is this going to be weird?”

“Not if you don’t make it weird,” I snapped.

I can admit that I snapped.   
I didn’t intend to snap. It was just that everything was ruined. This whole experience was going to be awkward and weird and awful. The script had looked so promising, but we were going to make a stupid movie that critics would hate. Audiences would boo. I'd be over.

Whatever. 

So, another career ends in flames before it begins. It was cool working with Steve Carrell. I could always tell my grandkids that. 

I turned to go and he caught my arm. 

My heart knocked into my Adam’s apple. For a full five seconds, we both stared at his massive fucking hand wrapped around my pale, sleeveless bicep. Then he let go.

And I walked away like I should have done in the first place.


End file.
